


iGet It

by Sequesters



Series: The Bi Sam Saga [1]
Category: iCarly
Genre: Bisexual Sam, Coming Out, F/M, Gen, completely unironic icarly fanfiction, if you're looking for crack turn back now, maybe it could be way later on but that's not what I'm going for rn, technically this is an AU considering the character arcs? It's close enough to canon, this is not Seddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sequesters/pseuds/Sequesters
Summary: Sam doesn't like Carly's new boyfriend, and Freddie is determined to find out why.
Relationships: Carly Shay/Original Male Character(s), Freddie Benson & Sam Puckett
Series: The Bi Sam Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671073
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	iGet It

**Author's Note:**

> After eight long years, I am back on my iCarly bullshit.
> 
> Enjoy.

It all started when Carly got a new boyfriend.

Freddie had mostly stopped noting Carly’s endless stream of boyfriends, aside from the usual pang that he wasn’t one of them, but this new one…there was something different about him.

His name was Patrick, for one. Carly had never dated a Patrick before. But he was tall, had a curly mop of hair and a bright smile, and was on the Ridgeway basketball team—all of which made him EXACTLY Carly’s type.

But it was more than that, this time. Even Freddie had to admit, he was a pretty awesome guy, and a pretty spectacular boyfriend. He never batted an eye at Spencer’s various sculptures and schemes, took Carly’s nearly weekly crazy adventures in stride, and was always iCarly’s number one fan and supporter (that they would acknowledge).

And Carly REALLY liked him.

In fact, she liked him so much that she was actually engaging with _his_ interests, a privilege not afforded to most of her other boyfriends in the past. She cheered at his basketball games, clapped politely at his viola recitals, and sometimes raced in almost late for iCarly just because she was hanging out with him!

And Freddie was a little jealous.

Okay, fine, a LOT jealous, but who could really blame him? All he ever wanted was for Carly to love him! And now, seeing what it actually LOOKED like for Carly to love somebody as more than a beautiful pair of lips…it hurt.

It was depressing and infuriating at the same time, and it hung over him like a black cloud every time he saw the two of them together.

Especially times like right now, when Carly had invited Patrick over for lunchtime omelettes.

Sam was sprawled on the couch, eating last night’s leftovers because they were “taking WAY too long and Mama’s gonna STARVE otherwise”, and she wasn’t entirely wrong. Patrick had found a chef’s trick for cracking eggs on YouTube, and was dead set on getting it right.

He was holding the spatula sideways over the mixing bowl, and tossing eggs into the air in the hope that they would land directly on the sharp edge of the spatula, and (in theory) break cleanly into the bowl.

The inside of the mixing bowl was pristine, and he had broken four eggs on the counter so far.

“Wow. You are REALLY bad at this,” Sam noted, gnawing on a chicken bone.

“I can’t aim with anything smaller than a basketball!” Patrick protested, as the fifth egg splatted onto the counter. “You should see me try to throw a football, it’s EXACTLY the same thing!”

It was a little comforting to know that he wasn’t perfect at EVERYTHING.

“Hey, you, watcha gon do, hey, you, watcha gon d-GOD damn it,” Patrick swore, as yet another egg met its untimely demise on the counter.

“That’s not how the song goes,” Carly noted, snaking her arms around Patrick’s waist from behind, “OR how the trick goes.”

“Oh yeah? YOU try it,” Patrick demanded, breaking her grip on his stomach and placing the spatula and the egg into her hands, “Since you wanna critique my skills so bad.”

“Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair! I can’t see from back here!” complained Carly, face pressed into the back of his jersey.

“Should have thought of that before you gave me your arms,” Patrick shrugged, covering her hands with his, “C’mon, throw it! Your aim CAN’T be any worse than mine.”

Carly shut her eyes and tossed the egg.

Against all odds, it cracked cleanly against the spatula, and slid into the bowl.

“HELL YEAH YOU GOT IT!!” Patrick cheered, releasing Carly’s arms and turning to face her, “Carly ‘Master Chef’ Shay, blindfolded egg-cracking _master!!”_

Carly blushed at that.

“Now scoot over, I’m finally gonna MAKE this omelette, before we ALL starve to death,” he said, shooing her gently away.

Freddie sighed. It really pissed him off, how perfect they were together.

He was well on his way to a quiet sulking session, when Carly suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” she said quietly, eyes darting around.

Freddie’s mind fizzled with a million half-formed excuses for his stormy mood. “Um, sure-“

Carly immediately pulled him sideways, into Spencer’s doorway.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Sam?” she asked, urgently.

Freddie blinked, and chanced a glance back toward the couch, where Sam had been lazily changing channels for the past thirty minutes.

She looked _fine._

“W-would you like an itemized _list_?” he joked, but Carly wasn’t laughing.

“No really, I mean…I don’t think she _likes_ Patrick,” she said.

Just at that moment, Patrick tried to take Sam’s plate into the kitchen for her, and Sam HISSED at him.

“JESUS-sorry,” said Patrick, shrinking back with his hands up.

Freddie looked back at Carly, who had her arms crossed.

“You didn’t even NOTICE, did you?” accused Carly.

“Yeah, I did! You know, with all the-th-the-“ he gestured for a moment, then dropped his hands in defeat.

“Fine, no I didn’t,” he mumbled.

“Well _I_ have,” Carly continued, “And I’m sure that she doesn’t like him, but for some reason she’s trying to HIDE it.”

That _was_ unusual.

“Why would she hide it?” Freddie wondered.

“I don’t know, that’s the THING!” Carly said, attempting to keep her voice down, “She’s usually so… _vocal_ about stuff she doesn’t like, and the people she’s pissed off, or who have pissed HER off, but _Patrick?_ She never SAYS a thing about him! She just… _glowers_ , and _grumbles_ , when she thinks I’m not looking.”

Carly sighed.

“I just don’t get it, Freddie,” she said, “He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever dated! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Nothing except for those poor, poor eggs,” Freddie noted.

Carly smacked his arm. “Focus! My best friend hates my boyfriend, and I don’t know why!”

Freddie shrugged. “She’ll probably come around on him eventually. Remember how much she used to hate me?”

“Viciously and aggressively?”

“Yeah! She somehow managed to like ME in the end, and I’m NOWHERE near as cool as Patrick,” he said, trying his best to not sound bitter.

Carly raised an eyebrow at him. He must not have succeeded.

“Or maybe? Maybe she’s just upset that he hasn’t brought us any meat from his uncle’s meat shop yet,” Freddie hazarded, guessing wildly as his face burned, “Sam probably took that as a personal slight.”

Carly looked back at Sam, unconvinced. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Carls! Your remote is on the fritz again!!” Sam yelled from her lounging position.

“Don’t tell her I said anything,” ordered Carly, pointing a finger in Freddie’s face, then she ran back to the couch as if nothing had happened.

“Nooo problem,” Freddie muttered as she left.

-

It was FAR easier to watch Sam react to Patrick and Carly than to actually watch Patrick and Carly themselves, so Freddie welcomed the distraction from his jealousy by trying to puzzle out what Sam’s deal was.

What he found, over the course of about a week or two was…not much, aside from basically confirming what Carly had already noticed. Sam didn’t like Patrick, but she was trying really hard to hide it, which was…progress, at least, from how she used to be. She had come a long way since the first year of iCarly, and after a few years of close friendships with Freddie and Carly (and recently, a therapist with some actual qualifications), she was finally starting to curb her angry outbursts and violent tendencies. She still carried a sort of…tension about her, but Freddie figured that that was just a feature of her particular brand of childhood trauma.

Except that, the more that Patrick was around, the higher that tension spiked.

“Hey Carly!” Patrick said, kissing Carly as he walked into the apartment.

“Sam, Freddie,” he greeted politely.

“Hey Patrick,” they both said in a monotone, flapping a hand up and down in greeting.

“Ready to go?” he asked Carly.

“Where are you going?” asked Freddie.

“Patrick is taking me to Space Jam on Ice,” Carly said smugly, grabbing him around his waist and looking back to Sam and Freddie with just her head, “When will _your_ man ever?”

“I _hope_ my man won’t ever,” said Sam, reaching for the nail clippers, “I HATE Space Jam.”

The silence stretched out, awkward as it was long, broken only by the _snip-snip_ of Sam clipping her toenails.

“Oh-kay,” Patrick finally said, “I’ll see you guys later. Freddie, still need that HDMI cable?”

“Oh, yeah, If you’re willing to part with it,” Freddie said, looking up from his laptop.

“I’ll bring it to school tomorrow,” Patrick promised.

“Enough nerd-talk,” Carly said, pulling at Patrick, “Let’s go! I wanna see if they’ll throw the inflatable basketballs into the audience this time!”

“Oh, you KNOW that I’ll catch one for you if they do, babe,” smiled Patrick, kissing Carly’s cheek, “Otherwise they’ll kick me off the Varsity team.”

“Would they really?” asked Carly, skeptical.

“Well, they wouldn’t, but I’ll resign in shame, I swear,” Patrick grinned, lacing his fingers with Carly’s.

Sam made a gagging noise.

“Tell Spencer I’ll be back at nine, byyyye!” Carly called, pulling Patrick towards the door.

Patrick threw up a peace sign as they disappeared into the hallway.

“Boys are…gross,” declared Sam, as she continued to clip her toenails on the Shay’s couch.

“Excuse me?” Freddie said, looking pointedly at her current activity.

“I said what I said, Benson,” Sam said, throwing him a menacing look.

Freddie just rolled his eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you HATE him,” Freddie said, regretting the words as they came out of his mouth.

Sam turned her head and fixed him with a glare.

“Excusez moi??” she asked, eyes glittering dangerously..

He gulped.

“I said what I said, Puckett,” Freddie said, attempting bravado, “You don’t like him! It’s super obvious!”

Sam narrowed her eyes, but Freddie continued to barrel on.

“I know why _I_ don’t like seeing him around,” Freddie said, “But why don’t _you?_ ”

Sam paused in her clipping for a moment, and regarded Freddie with a thoughtful stare.

Just as she opened her mouth up to reply, the door to the apartment swung open.

“CARLY I’M HOOOME!!” Spencer shouted as he entered, arms full of grocery bags.

He stopped as he caught sight of her two best friends instead, occupying his couch.

“Where’s Carly?” he asked.

“Space Jam on Ice,” Freddie said, mentally cursing Spencer for ruining the moment, “She’ll be back around nine.”

“Yuuuup,” Sam added helpfully, going back to her toenails.

“Then why are YOU two still here?” Spencer asked.

“What, do you want us to go HOME?” Sam countered.

Spencer looked at the two of them for a long moment, and sighed.

“I’m making pot roast tonight,” he said, defeated.

“Nice!” Freddie and Sam said simultaneously, high-fiving.

“You’re helping me make it, if you wanna eat it!” Spencer said, jabbing a threatening finger at the two of them.

“Fair enough.”

“I can live with that.”

“And ONLY if you clean up your TOENAILS first!!” Spencer shouted at Sam, as he finally set the bags down on the counter.

-

Freddie was just starting to accept that he would NEVER figure out what Sam’s deal was, when Carly bailed on their post-iCarly spaghetti tacos tradition to hang out with Patrick.

Sam didn’t take it well.

Freddie came down the stairs in the thick of it, Sam and Carly’s conversation already crackling with antagonistic energy.

“I’m telling you, I REALLY don’t have _time_ today!” Carly was saying, “I’m meeting with Patrick like RIGHT NOW, so we can make it to the movie! We can have spaghetti tacos literally ANY OTHER TIME.”

“Fine then,” Sam spat, “Go run off with your stupid BOYFRIEND.”

Freddie winced. Judging by Carly’s straightening back, this, right here and now, was the last straw.

“Why are you always so-so _grumblegrumblegrumble_ about Patrick?!” Carly shouted, “What did he ever do to YOU?!”

“I don’t _sound_ like that!” Sam said, affronted, “And, for your information, I just don’t _like_ him!”

“W-What’s not to LIKE?!” Carly asked, flailing her arms, “He’s _charming_ , he’s _sweet_ , and he’s-he’s just GOOD for me, in a way that a guy never has been before! Ugh, Sam, I like him SO much-“

“I _never_ trust a goodie-two-shoes, YOU know that!” Sam argued.

“I know, I just-“ Carly’s face sagged, and it seemed like all of the energy drained out of her body.

“I just…don’t know why you can’t be HAPPY for me,” Carly said, fiddling with her purse, “You’re my _best friend_ , and you’re acting all WEIRD about my boyfriend for NO reason. I just wish you would tell me WHY.”

Sam looked down, and said nothing.

Carly sighed, checking her phone.

“I gotta go,” she said, despondence creeping into her voice, “He’s already in the lobby, waiting for me.”

Sam made no move.

“I’ll see you guys later,” said Carly, finally acknowledging Freddie’s presence in the room, and she trudged out of the apartment.

Sam sighed as she leaned up against the wall, watching Carly walk away.

Freddie, almost out of habit now, watched Sam instead of Carly, and the look on her face made his heart ache.

And that’s when it suddenly clicked.

 _That’s exactly how I look at her, too_.

The only thing that surprised Freddie was that…he wasn’t surprised. It was like a part of him had known all along—the similarities between his jealous feelings and Sam’s stormy moods, the little comments that seemed nonsensical at the time but now made TOO much sense, the tension he had observed in Sam that spiked every time Patrick and Carly so much as touched—overwhelming amounts of observational data, waiting around in his subconscious for his overly rational brain to catch up with the undeniable truth.

He wasn’t the ONLY one who liked Carly.

“Ohhh,” he said in awe.

The sound snapped Sam out of her reverie, just enough for her to turn her eyes toward Freddie.

Freddie looked from Sam, to the door that Carly had just disappeared through, and back to Sam, with a look that he hoped was an empathizing one.

“You too, huh?” he simply said.

All of the color drained out of Sam’s face.

Before Freddie could even blink, she LUNGED at him with a feral yell, fists flying.

 _That was the worst way you could have possibly done that_ , Freddie thought as he fell to the floor, automatically defending his face and throat. This was Sam, and when it came to fight or flight, she always chose _fight._

But the stress of the situation was throwing her off her game. Her wild movements were missing more than they were hitting, and it was clear that her heart really wasn’t in DAMAGING Freddie. If she really wanted to hurt him, she could have broken through his defensive position in an instant.

She was simply terrified, it was written all over her face.

And that was making her careless.

Freddie took advantage of a big swing to catch an arm, pin it to his chest, and use his hips to flip her over in one fell swoop.

Unused to having the upper hand, he awkwardly fought her flailing limbs until he managed to pin her down.

“Get OFF, Benson,” she snarled through gritted teeth, “Or I _swear_ to God-“

“Not until you listen to me!”

She struggled, but Freddie used all of his strength to pin down her arms, speaking fast before she could flip him over again.

“Look,” he panted, “Look. I’m not gonna tell her, o-or ANYONE, I-I swear, okay? I swear on my whole life, I-I swear on the 8th floor fire escape, your secret is _safe_ with me. You KNOW I can keep a secret,” he said, giving her a pointed look.

Sam stopped struggling at that, and just _stared_ up at him with wide eyes.

Freddie was suddenly acutely aware that he held her life, as she knew it, in his hands.

“I just…” he sighed and sat back on her stomach, as if this was the most normal place in the world for a heart to heart. “I dunno, I just GET it, alright? I get it. YOU know I get it. And I’m…here for you, if you ever wanna just…talk about it. No judgement.”

Sam took a few deep breaths, and then found her voice again.

“Wouldja GET OFF of me, Benson?” she said, her voice only weakly attempting its usual snarl, “Or do you need me to put the HURT on you first?”

Freddie smiled, and even helped her up.

They stood, awkwardly, neither looking the other in the face.

“Sooo…” Sam said, casually, eyes flicking from the ground to Freddie and back, “No judgement?”

“No judgement,” Freddie confirmed.

Sam fell silent again.

Freddie was desperately searching for a topic that could break the silence when-

“God, she is such a FRUSTRATING CRUSH!!!” Sam suddenly shouted, her voice cracking with the force of her outburst.

“I _knooow!!”_ Freddie groaned.

“No, you DON’T know, Fredward,” Sam continued, pointing a finger at him, “You don’t! At least you know where you STAND!”

Sam was pacing now, words flying out of her with the force of an explosion, voice cracking with honesty as things long-buried finally rose up to the surface.

“She’s _told_ you, outright, that it’s never gonna happen, but me? She loves me back, but as a best friend! And when TWO GIRLS are best friends, they’re all TOUCHY and they SHARE CLOTHES and tell each other they SMELL GOOD-“

“You NEVER smell good-“

“And it’s just enough to keep me HOPING!” finished Sam, panting from the exertion of yelling.

“My stupid, stupid g-g-“ she swallowed hard, and continued at a lower volume, “ _gay little brain_ just keeps it going, even though I know never- _never_ in a million years would she-she-b-but I still just-I just-“

Sam picked up one of the Shay’s ugly throw pillows and screamed her loudest, directly into it.

“Feel better?” asked Freddie, quirking his eyebrow with a smile.

Sam took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” she said soberly, “Yeah, I think I really do.”

She flopped down onto the couch, hugging the pillow she had just screamed into, and stared into space.

Freddie slid down next to her.

“So,” he finally said, “You’re a…lesbian?”

“Huh? No, no, that’s-what I said before, that’s just what I call my thinkin’ machine when it goes stupid over girls,” Sam said, tapping her temple, “I think I’m actually…bi.”

Freddie nodded in acknowledgement.

“Ooh,” Sam shuddered, rubbing her arms, “Never said that out loud before.”

Then she stuck her forearm right up in Freddie’s face.

“Feel my arm, Benson, I’ve got the coming-out _shivers_ ,” she said.

Freddie pushed the offered forearm away with a finger.

“That’s not a real thing,” he scoffed.

“Hey, who is the one coming out here? It’s ME, Fred-wad, not YOU,” said Sam, poking a finger into his ear.

“Stop it!” Freddie swatted at her hand, Sam retaliated, and they devolved into a slap fight, giggling madly, until they were laughing too hard to do anything but collapse against each other.

Freddie heaved a deep sigh of contentment, and looked over at Sam. The tension that had kept her wound so tightly for the past few months was GONE, and for the first time in a long time…she seemed truly relaxed.

Freddie’s heart swelled with pride, and he immediately set about ruining the moment.

“Bet you I’ll get over her first,” declared Freddie.

“What? No way, Fredward, you’re still holding the torch after MULTIPLE REJECTIONS. Now that I’ve had this therapeutic screaming session,” Sam wiggled the pillow, “I’ve got this crush under _control._ ”

Freddie snorted. “You do NOT, not until you quit being OPENLY JEALOUS.”

“What? I’m not OPENLY JEALOUS-“

“Yeah, you are! And s-so am I! Not like you have to lie about it in front of ME.”

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but then clicked it shut again.

“I’ve been trying not to be,” Sam said, quietly.

“I know,” Freddie said soberly, “I know.”

He slumped back into the couch.

“But-it-it’s not Patrick’s fault that Carly _likes_ him,” Freddie sighed, “And it’s not his fault that we…like _Carly._ ”

Sam sighed. “You’re right, Freddie.”

She picked at a loose thread in her jeans.

“It’s…hard,” she said slowly, without looking up, “To _not_ be a jerk, when you’re just…so _good_ at it.”

“Hey,” Freddie said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “The fact that you’re even _trying_ is a serious improvement, so, y’know. I appreciate it. More than most, probably.”

That got a flash of a smile out of Sam. “Yeah. Sorry for uh…losing my temper earlier, and trying to bust your face about it. I…well, I panicked.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Freddie said, “And I forgive you, on one condition.”

“What is it?”

Freddie grinned, “Make me the FIRST spaghetti taco.”

“Oh man, no PROBLEM, Benson,” Sam bounded off the couch and downright zoomed into the kitchen, “I’m STARVING.”

“Oh and Benson?” Sam asked, deceptively casual.

“Hm?”

“Thanks. F-for being…cool,” she stuttered, not meeting his eyes, “About it. About…everything.”

“Anytime,” Freddie nodded, “But I still want that taco.”

“Awh, you’re KILLIN me, Benson,” Sam complained, but she still scooped him one, with a generous helping of the GOOD parmesan.

-

After that, things were a lot smoother. Sam was still tense and prickly when Patrick was around, but she had softened to him quite a bit—possibly helped along when, a few days later, Patrick brought them all a veritable smorgasboard of cured meats from his uncle’s business.

“Fine, your boyfriend can _stay_ , Carls,” Sam said, feeding herself a pancetta-wrapped date as if she were the indulgent Greek goddess AND the servant feeding her all at the same time.

“Hear that, Patrick? We’re _keeping_ you!” called Carly to the kitchen.

“WHOO!!” he fist pumped, continuing to pull meat from the bags.

Carly suddenly yanked Sam close by the front of her jacket.

“Do you mean it?” Carly whispered, low so Patrick couldn’t hear, “Are you _cool_ with him now?”

Sam looked over Carly’s shoulder at Freddie, just for a split second.

“Yeah,” Sam said, eyeing the empty box of bresaola, “Let’s just say...I’ve got no more beef.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: my very first fandom on Tumblr was iCarly, and my first ship was Seddie (Shoutout to the Bickering Sidekicks forum, RIP). But lets be real, the whole fandom was WAY too straight back then, and I'm older and gayer so this is what you get now
> 
> This one is the first part of a collection I'm gonna write, not to mention the iCarly Good Omens AU that I'm cooking up, so you haven't seen the last of THESE characters yet.
> 
> Special shoutout to Papu for listening to me yell about iCarly while composing this thing, i owe ya one.


End file.
